


Cas' First Christmas

by Castiel_For_King



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Dancing, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:20:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_For_King/pseuds/Castiel_For_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas dropped by the Singer residence on Christmas Eve to spend time with the brothers and recharge his batteries.  Tree decorating, hot chocolate, alcohol, dancing and first kisses ensue.  In that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cas' First Christmas

Dean sighed, turning to look at the Christmas tree that he and Bobby had just hauled into the house. They'd had to do it themselves as Sam was currently near comatose in bed with the flu. It wasn't often that his yeti of a brother could be taken down by something as normal as a bug but this time it had gotten him good.

 

So him and Bobby had walked far past where the junk yard ended and into the endless forest behind it. It had been the first time Dean had ventured so deep into Bobby's property since he was a little kid and was surprised to note that not a lot had changed. The trees had towered above him and Sam then and they still did now, their branches weighed down with heavy, wet snow.

 

“Bobby, all these trees are huge.” He'd commented before they'd even attempted to penetrate the barrier of snow laden fir branches; a solid and silent wall that stood cold before them, as if the forest knew of their intentions and was trying to keep them from entering.

 

“There's a spot just an acre past this where they did some clear cutting a few years ago.” Bobby had explained in that patient I-know-what-I'm-doing-idjit voice. “There'll be some younger trees in there.”

 

Of course he'd been right, something he'd felt necessary to mention several times while they hacked at the base of the tree with wood axes until it toppled over.

 

A mere forty five minutes after they'd set out and Bobby was grumbling at him to, “Push it more to the left. No – _my_ left! There, now, push it back a little...ok now spin it so that gap in the side is against the wall.”

 

When Dean looked up through the pine needles poking him in the face and saw Bobby scratch at his beard, which he only did on a few occasions, one of which was when he was looking at something he wasn't really happy with, he sighed heavily.

 

“Bobby-”

 

“Well, maybe we should-”

 

“It's fine, Bobby!” He barked, stepping away from the tree and shaking his head a little to dislodge the needles in his hair.

 

The older man stomped off to the kitchen grumbling and Dean just rolled his eyes. The man lived in a junk yard but he could have little bouts of OCD about the weirdest stuff.

 

He heard the sound of Sam's unsteady footsteps and turned just as his brother came into the sitting room. Despite his sickly state – pale face, dark circles around his tired eyes and rumpled, slept in clothes – when Sam spotted the tree, his expressive brown eyes lit up excitedly.

 

“It looks great!” His little brother gushed and, as usual, his excitement was contagious and Dean found himself grinning from ear to ear, glad he could make his little brother smile like that even when he'd spent most of the morning puking his guts up.

 

“Well I think Bobby went to scrounge up some of his old decorations if you're feeling up to helping.” Dean said, knowing his brother's answer already.

 

“Yeah! Yeah, for sure!”

 

He gestured for his brother to take a seat on the couch, noticing how he swayed despite his enthusiasm. “I'm gonna make some hot chocolate. You want any?” He called as he walked to the kitchen.

 

“Er...yeah, I think I'm done puking for a while.”

 

He grimaced in sympathy. It had been a long time since he'd had the flu but could remember the worst part always being the constant nausea with no relief. At least when it's hang over nausea, which he experiences quite frequently, as soon as you throw up you feel fucking great.

 

The now familiar and, if he was honest with himself, comforting, sound of fluttering wings announced the arrival of his favourite angel and the grin was back on his face again before he knew it.

 

“Hey Cas!” He called without turning around.

 

There was silence and then footsteps as Cas walked up behind him. “Hello, Dean.” Came the expected, gravely voice.

 

Though he didn't expect it to be so close to his ear that he could feel the warm whoosh of the angel's breath.

 

He gave a start, the base of his spine tingling with their sudden proximity.

 

“How did you know it was me and not some other angel?” Cas asked him, sounding genuinely curious as he moved to lean against the counter. “You must be more vigilant, Dean, it may not always be me that visits.”

 

He smirked, feeling more steady now that Cas was within his line of sight. “I knew it was you,” he leaned in towards Cas to grab the canister of sugar behind him, the angel did not budge, but his blue eyes tracked his every move, “because I know the sound of your wings.”

 

His smirk widened when he saw that the comment had actually shocked the angel, his blue eyes widening and blinking a few times as he processed the comment.

 

“You...” The angel trailed off, seemingly speechless for the first time Dean could remember and he wondered what the big deal was.

 

“Yeah?” He tried to prompt. “Why does that surprise you? It's the same thing as recognizing someone's voice or knowing who is walking down the steps by how it sounds.”

 

The angel looked a little less disturbed but Dean still felt as if he'd said something wrong so he momentarily abandoned spooning sugar into the coffee mugs and turned to face the angel fully.

 

“Ok, what's got your feathers in a knot?” He asked seriously.

 

He tried not to lose his train of though when his turn of phrase caused the angel to tilt his head in confusion, like an adorable, blue eyed puppy. No! Right. Focus, Winchester.

 

He folded his arms and gave himself a mental shake, refocusing on Cas as the angel answered the question.

 

“It's just that some of my brothers and sisters already find the amount of time I spend with you and your brother to be troubling. If they knew that I'd spent so much time with you that you've come to differentiate between the sound my wings make when they displace air to that of another angel's...well...” he trailed off, the family shaming implied.

 

As was sometimes the case in the aftermath of Castiel's brutal but innocent honesty, Dean was left trying to process it all.

 

He couldn't say he didn't understand where Cas was coming from because he'd certainly experienced his fair share of family shaming in his lifetime, although he supposed when you had thousands and thousands of family members the pressure was likely a little more intense than what he'd experienced. And Cas looked thoroughly uncomfortable and he was suddenly filled with an intense worry that the angel would leave.

 

“You're not going, though, right?” He blurted before he could stop himself.

 

Cas' blue eyes focused on his face and softened. “No, of course not. I uh,” He looked away, sudden uncertainty tightening his features, “I needed a break from fighting. We're gaining ground but I am...tired and I need to, as you say, recharge my batteries. My first thought was to come here.” The small smile that followed this statement was shy.

 

He sighed with relief but quickly covered it with a joke, “Good, because I know for a fact that you've never had hot chocolate.” He pulled a fourth mug from the cupboard and spooned in some cocoa powder and sugar. “Get me the milk?”

 

Cas opened the fridge and handed him the milk as requested and watched closely as Dean poured the boiling water into each mug.

 

“Now stir those until the powder dissolves.”

 

When he looked over and saw Cas studiously and carefully stirring the cocoa powder into the water as instructed like he'd just been given a heavenly command, Dean had to grin. There was something about Cas' intensity when it came to things that Dean was so used to doing every day, sometimes with his eyes closed, that was endearing.

 

“Alright, now we add a little milk and we're done!” He announced, managing to stop staring at Cas' face long enough to watch how much milk the angel was pouring in the cups and telling him when to stop.

 

They each took two mugs back into the sitting room where Bobby had returned with a box full of lights and ornaments and Sam was helping him sort through it with a blanket over his shoulders.

 

“Here we go!” Dean said as he handed one mug to his surrogate father and the other to his little brother as they stopped rummaging through the box of ornaments to greet Cas.  They took eager sips from their steaming cups, smiling around the familiar taste, no doubt recalling other times they'd had the beverage in the past.

 

Taste and smell had a weird way of bringing old memories to the forefront.

 

He turned to Cas and took one of the mugs with a grin. “Go on.”

 

The angel lifted the mug to his lips tentatively and inhaled the rich smell before taking a sip. The delighted noise that came from his throat seemed to surprise the angel and he blinked down into the cup as if it had tricked him and Dean snorted with laughter.

 

“Good, right?!” He asked when the angel was not forthcoming with the admission on his own.

 

“Yes. Incredibly so.”

 

He smiled again and felt that tingle at the base of his spine when Cas returned it. A real smile, not like the small unsure ones he'd often seen before. This one was genuine, flashing his straight, white teeth and Dean suddenly felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.

 

“Hey, you two love birds want to come help us untangle these lights?”

 

Dean's face fell into a scowl. Leave it to Bobby Singer to ruin a completely awesome moment.

 

When he looked down into the box he saw a snarling tangle of tiny lights that looked like Satan himself had been fucking around with.

 

“Sweet Jesus, we'll never get that untangled!” He could literally feel Cas' eyes burning a hole in the side of his face and he took a moment to turn and meet the disapproving blue eyes with a muttered, “Sorry.”

 

Sam reached in and pulled the ball of lights out and sighed.

 

“Here, give it to me.” Cas said, holding his hand out for the lights.

 

The three other men shared a look and then Sam shrugged and handed them over and the angel moved to the centre of the room, likely for floor space to lay them out.

 

He turned his attention back to the box when Sam asked him to help separate the ornaments because apparently they could get tangled up as well. Bobby had moved to sit behind the desk and was pouring a little something from his flask into his hot cocoa with his feet up and a grin on his face.

 

When they'd finally gotten all the ornaments sorted and made sure they all had little hooks in them Cas was suddenly at their side with a neatly coiled string of lights in his hand.

 

“Nice going, Cas!” Sam exclaimed with a laugh, “I didn't think we'd ever get them untangled.”

 

Dean taught Cas how to properly wrap the lights around the tree, with a little help from Bobby shouting from behind his desk, and then the brothers and their angel were scattering ornaments around the branches as evenly as they could.

 

By the time they'd finished, it was dark outside the windows, the fire had died down to coals and Sam was swaying on his feet.

 

“Dude, sit down.” Dean ordered his stubborn brother, having to take the last ornament out of his hand and shove him onto the couch.

 

He pulled the second blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders on top of the other one, frowning in concern when his teeth clacked together with chills.

 

“I am sorry that I do not have the energy to heal you, Sam.” Cas said, his eyes so genuinely sorrowful and sincere that it made Dean's chest constrict painfully and he was overcome with a crushing need to reassure the angel that they were just happy he was here and he didn't always need to help people and sometimes he thought he needed to spend some more damn time taking care of himself-

 

“Don't worry about it, Cas. I'm just glad you're here. We don't get to see you much these days.”

 

Bless Sam and his ability to accurately communicate his feelings. He grinned at Cas. “What he said.”  Then he clapped the angel on the shoulder, “Come on, we're gonna go get some more wood for the fire.”

 

When they stepped out into the frigid night air, an icy blast of wind and snow hit them in the face and Dean cursed loudly. He'd spent ten minutes donning several jackets, a hat and mittens and anything else he thought might help him evade hypothermia and he felt like he may as well be naked in the face of this raging blizzard for all the good it had done him.

 

Castiel, of course, stood motionless and stoic, merely squinting his eyes a little at the blowing snow, hands still in the pockets of his trench coat and looking all the world as if he were standing on a beach in Maui instead of in the middle of a freezing snow storm.

 

“Come on, angel boy, the wood is in the shed.”

 

They trudged through the snow, walking blind in the face of the total white out and Dean was pretty sure he was headed in the right direction but was a little worried until they actually reached the shed. Once inside, the relief from the biting wind was immediate and he took a moment to catch his breath before he beckoned Cas closer and started loading his arms up with wood, dreading the walk back to the house.

 

When they returned and dumped their bundles to the side of the fireplace, Bobby, who'd had his head back and eyes closed, eyed the large amount of wood they'd brought it.

 

“There anything left out there?” He asked dryly.

 

“Shut up, we didn't want to have to go back out. It's cold as hell.”

 

He shoved a few logs onto the dying embers as Sam's teeth continued to chatter from the couch, but after blowing on the coals until he was light headed, the fire had still not been rekindled.

 

“Damn it.” He snapped, leaning down to try again but Cas' gravely voice stopped him.

 

“Move back, Dean.” He turned to see the angel sitting cross legged on the floor with his back to the edge of the sofa and staring hard at the fire.

 

He moved away as instructed and watched as Cas' eyes narrowed, his head tilted to the side and then flames erupted in the fire place so powerfully that they licked and singed their way up the stones around the grate for a second before dying down into a more reasonable size.

 

“Well I was gonna go get matches,” Bobby pipped up with wide eyes, “But that works too.”

 

Castiel smirked and inched closer to the fire, crossing his arms over his chest and the movement was so un-Cas that it had little tendrils of worry squirming in the pit of Dean's stomach. Cas had said his batteries were drained, did that mean the same thing as last time? That Cas was feeling things more like a human would? Did that mean he could get cold? Was he cold now?

 

It occurred to Dean that he could have an answer to this question if he simply voiced it.

 

“You cold?”

 

Cas gave him a sidelong glance and moved closer to the fire as an answer, apparently unwilling to vocally admit to his temporary weakness and that was something Dean could totally understand. So he stood and went back to the kitchen to make more hot cocoa because that just seemed like the right thing to do.

 

When he finished and returned with a mug each for his angel and his brother, Sam was already asleep, curled into a much smaller ball than a man his size should have been capable of achieving and snoring slightly. So he gave one mug to Cas and kept the other for himself, since Bobby had moved on to hard liquor, and took a seat on the floor next to Cas, their proximity to the fire making the heat nearly unbearable.

 

“Cas we should move back or we won't have any eyebrows left.” He advised, scooting back a foot or so.

 

The angel smirked. “My grace burns hotter and brighter than the sun. This little fire will not damage me and I am cold.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes when the angel refused to move and decided to try another tactic, glancing up at Bobby where he sat at his desk, seemingly fully engrossed in the novel he was reading.

 

He licked his lips and tried to keep the grin from his voice.

 

“Well it's too close for _me_ so come back here and _I'll_ help keep you warm.”

 

Not as engrossed in the novel as Dean had thought, Bobby abruptly rose from his chair and left the room with his drink and his book in hand.

 

Cas had turned slightly to throw Dean a shrewd look over his shoulder, as if he knew exactly what Dean wasn't saying, and he couldn't have stopped the cheeky smirk even if he'd bothered to try.

 

While Cas busied himself with getting comfortable closer to where Dean's spot was, the hunter grabbed the bottle of maple whiskey Bobby had left on the desk and tipped some in to his and Cas' mugs.

 

“This'll warm you up.” He promised, urging the angel to drink it down.

 

He learned new things about Cas every time they hung out. Last time he'd learned that while angel's don't _require_ sleep, it certainly didn't mean they couldn't and Dean had been a little surprised to have a lap full of slumbering angel after a long day of non-stop researching.

 

The time before that he'd learned that angels had a thing for cats and cats seemed to really like angels. At least, that seemed to be the case with his angel. They'd been at some seedy motel when Cas had dropped in and within minutes he'd opened the door to let in a stray cat. The angel had spent several minutes cleaning his fur, healing and finally cuddling – actual scratching, stroking, cooing, _cuddling_ – the damn thing before they finally got him to focus on the issue of the vampire nest the were trying to wipe out. Even then, the cat was constantly head butting his hand, purring and meowing loudly for the angel's attention.

 

Tonight, he learned that Cas had a pretty strong sweet tooth when he asked Dean if there was any more hot chocolate to drink. When he offered to make the angel another cup, Cas asked for extra sugar.

 

When he returned and added a little more liquor to the mug, Cas was fiddling with Bobby's hand held radio, turning the dial with a frustrated frown on his face.

 

“How do I get this to work?” He asked, shaking it a little as if that might help.

 

He reclaimed his seat next to Cas and held out the mug. “Here, you take this and give me that.” He examined the old, dirty radio, willing to bet it had been one of the first models of the hand held type to be released. “Well, first off you gotta put it on FM, there isn't much on the AM stations and what _is_ on there you don't want to listen to.” He fiddled with the dial, just looking for any clear signal because even if he _did_ know any local stations, Bobby's place would likely be too out of the way to get any decent reception.

 

He finally found one that happened to be playing something that sounded vaguely Christmasy, though he did not recognize the tune and he put the radio back on Bobby's desk and fiddled with the antenna until the sound came out mostly clear and sat back down.

 

“There.” He looked over at Cas and blinked. “Did you drink that all already?”

 

The angel smiled, another one of those dazzling, real, toothy smiles and all the air whooshed from Dean's lungs for a second time that night and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, what it might feel like to kiss the angel if something as simple as a smile made him feel so intensely.

 

As he took a moment to study Cas' face he noticed that the angel's cheeks were tinged red, the alcohol affecting him much faster with the state of his exhausted grace than it normally would, which is what likely was causing his smile to linger a little longer as well.

 

“Feeling warmer now?” He asked, sounding a little breathless even to his own ears.

 

In a display that proved Cas' ever expanding knowledge of human behaviour, he twisted up one corner of his mouth and looked upwards, pretending to give the question serious thought. “I don't think quite yet.” He rose to his knees and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the desk, taking a swig as he sat back down.

 

When the bottle was passed his way he shook his head and took a mouthful, swallowing around his grin. He'd never before seen Cas tipsy, except that one time when he'd gotten shit faced after learning that God had up and left heaven without so much as a goodby note. But that was different. Different time, different atmosphere...and occasion was everything when it came to your mood while drinking and Dean was just grateful it was a warm, cheerful environment this time. In his opinion, these moments were too few and far between.

 

One hour later and the two of them were leaning into each other, laughing their asses off at something Dean couldn't even remember and Josh Groban's cover of Noel was playing on the radio and his cheeks were burning from the whiskey in his blood and the heat of the fire and Cas was even hotter where their shoulders were touching and everything was just...perfect.

 

He looked back at Cas, his smile fading when those blue eyes met his and he set the nearly empty bottle of whiskey to the side and grabbed the angel's hand.

 

“Stand up.” He had to help him to his feet, chuckling when Cas stumbled and his mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise at his own lack of coordination.

 

He turned up the radio slightly, glancing back at Sam to make sure he was still dead to the world and then turned back to Cas and pushed the trench coat and suit jacket off his shoulders so that it did not get in the way.

 

The angel let himself be manhandled to the centre of the sitting room and the hunter felt wonder rise at the complete trust Castiel continuously showed in him. It was unnerving at times, his unwavering certainty that Dean would never hurt him; would never lead him astray and a vivid image of his future self leading a strung out Cas to his death chased away any of the warmth that had gathered in his core, replacing it with something cold and ugly.

 

Never. He would _never_ let it come to that. He couldn't.

 

 _Never_.

 

When Cas' hand was suddenly on the side of his face, his touch gentle and enquiring, Dean realized his sudden change in mood had manifested itself on his face.

 

“Dean?”

 

He raised a hand, shaking with what he chose to believe was the alcohol in his system and not the sickening memory of him betraying this beautiful creature to his death, and brushed an unruly curl of dark hair off the angel's forehead, letting his fingers card through the short locks.

 

He opened his mouth to explain, to try and ease the concerned frown creasing Cas' brow, to try and communicate what was happening in his head.

 

_You know you can trust me, right?_

 

_I would never betray you._

 

_I promise I won't let what Zacharia showed me happen._

 

But what came out of his mouth instead was, “I'm glad you're here.”

 

Regardless, it seemed to be just what Cas wanted to hear and the hard lines in his face softened into a relieved smile and a thumb stroked across his cheekbone, successfully pulling him from his dark thoughts and back into the warm light of Castiel's presence.

 

“Dance?” He asked, his voice having dipped a register lower than it normally was without his permission. He held out his hand but Cas merely stared at it in confusion.

 

“I don't know how.”

 

“Good. That means I get to teach you.”

 

They started out a little wobbly, weather because Dean was a pretty shitty dancer himself or because they were a little drunk, he couldn't be sure but it didn't matter because Little Drummer Boy was playing on the radio, snow and wind was howling outside their warm, fire-lit haven and, most importantly, Castiel and he were pressed chest to chest, Dean's arm around his slim waist and his other hand in Cas' as they moved in time with the music as best as their tipsy state would allow.

 

The third time that they nearly went down because they tripped over each other's feet, they laughed and grabbed at each other to stay upright and suddenly Cas' face was very close to his and they weren't laughing any more.

 

Damn him to hell if this wasn't the universe giving him the perfect moment.

 

He only had to move his head forward an inch and a half to press his lips to Cas' and when he did he could taste maple whiskey and chocolate on the angel's warmer than normal, and softer than normal, mouth.

 

After a brief moment of shock, Cas was responding enthusiastically and when his full lips parted in greeting, Dean could not decline such a delicious invitation and soon their tongues where pressing together as hotly as their bodies, Cas' hands were tangled in the front of Dean's shirt to pull him closer and Dean's hands were tangled in Cas' hair and it was all very, very _good_.

 

A sudden groan from the couch managed to penetrate the fog around Dean's brain and he tore his mouth away long enough to turn his head and see Sam fling an arm over his eyes and mutter, “Are you kidding me right now?”

 

He had a smart ass remark on the tip of his tongue about Sam leaving the room if he was gonna be such a little girl but just then Cas dipped his head and flattened his tongue against the spot just under his ear and his witty retort crumbled into a groan and it was him leading Cas from the room and upstairs, narrowly missing the pillow Sam chucked at his head.

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